The last couple of days have been a rather frightening reminder that I am, actually, seriously ill.
I’ve just spent two days in hospital while they tried to get my magnesium levels back to something approaching normal. They had suddenly fallen to 0.34 mg/dL, against a normal range of 1.7–2.3. This was the fourth time I’ve needed magnesium because of the side effects of treatment, and the second time my body has reacted badly to the infusion itself.
Thankfully, on the second day they finally managed to get the infusion in successfully. It took six hours, but at least my body finally agreed to cooperate. It has brought home to me that, at the moment, I am not so much dealing with the breast cancer as dealing with the consequences of the treatment that was intended to treat it. The chemotherapy has now been stopped because my body has quite clearly had enough.
The cancer can be dealt with later. Right now, I am seriously ill.
And that has made me think about some of the things I wish people understood when someone they know becomes seriously ill.
They’re still the same person
If you used to talk about everyday stuff, or complete nonsense, or laugh at inappropriate things, then carry on. Being ill doesn’t suddenly make someone a different person. Sometimes a conversation about anything other than illness is exactly what they need.
Don’t disappear
You don’t need the perfect words, and you certainly don’t need to fix anything. Just be there. “I don’t really know what to say, but I’m here” is honest and adequate.
Unless you’re their doctor, don’t give medical advice
“Have you tried this?” and “Why haven’t your doctors done that?” can be incredibly annoying.
Your friend’s medical team have probably spent rather longer studying their specialism than someone on Facebook who has discovered a miracle cure involving turmeric.
Don’t compare illnesses
“I know someone who had that and they were fine” is usually meant to be reassuring. It often isn’t.
We all respond differently to illness and treatment. What is relatively straightforward for one person can be absolutely horrendous for another. There is no prize for having the most similar story.
Don’t turn hope into certainty
“You’re going to be fine” or “You’re definitely going to get through this” may sound positive, but you don’t actually know that for a fact.
Hope is lovely. Certainty can become a burden. And if treatment doesn’t work, someone hasn’t “lost their battle”. They have simply reached the point where there are no more treatment options.
Have your own feelings somewhere else
Of course you’re going to be frightened, upset or angry when someone you care about becomes seriously ill. That’s entirely understandable.
But try not to make the person who is ill responsible for your emotions as well. Go outside, have a cry, swear at the universe, talk to someone – whatever you need to do. Then come back.
Respect their boundaries
If they don’t want visitors, don’t visit. If they don’t want to talk about their illness, talk about something else – everyday stuff, or complete nonsense, or laughing at inappropriate things often works well.
Their illness may already have taken away a considerable amount of control. Don’t take away more because you think you know what’s best.
If you want to help, ask: “Is there anything I can do that would be useful?” And then listen to the answer.
Don’t forget to laugh
Being seriously ill doesn’t mean every conversation has to be serious. People can still talk about everyday stuff, or complete nonsense, or laugh at inappropriate things.
Some of the best chats, WhatsApp messages or phone calls I’ve had have been the ones where someone made me laugh. Being ill is hard enough without having to be solemn about it all the time.
If they want to talk about death, let them
Death is uncomfortable. Most of us would much rather change the subject.
But if someone is seriously ill, they may already be thinking about it. If they want to talk about dying, don’t automatically tell them they’re being negative or insist that they’re going to be fine.
You don’t know that.
Sometimes being able to say out loud what you’re frightened of is much less frightening than having everyone around you pretend it isn’t happening.
If they want to talk about their funeral, let them
This is another conversation people often want to shut down.
“Oh, you don’t want to think about that now.”
“You’re going to get better.”
Maybe. But you don’t know that either.
Someone who is seriously ill may want to talk about what they would like at their funeral – the music, the readings, who they would like to speak, or whether they want everyone to wear outrageous t-shirts.
That doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve given up hope. It may simply mean they want to have some say in what happens if the worst does happen.
And talking about it doesn’t make it happen.
Sometimes having these conversations can actually make things a little easier. Once the difficult things have been said, you can get on with discussing everyday stuff, or complete nonsense, or laughing at inappropriate things,
Which, quite honestly, is how it should be.
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